


Soul-Name

by ami_ven



Series: Soul-Name [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every person is born with a name on their wrist, but that doesn’t guarantee they’ll ever find their soul-mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul-Name

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #148 "imprint"

When John Sheppard was born, the name on his left wrist was nearly legible.

“It’s an omen,” his father told him, often. “The darker the soul-name, the stronger your bond will be, Johnny. When you find her, I know she’ll be just the woman to help you run our company.”

Ten-year-old John ran his fingers over the letters he’d been able to read clearly since his fifth birthday. A person meeting their soul-mate was actually not uncommon, but it was still rare enough to be special. John just hoped that that if he ever did find Meredith, she would hate ‘business management’ as much as he did.

*

By the time Rodney McKay started grade two, he’d done away with his ridiculous first name. Yes, technically, his records still said _M._ Rodney McKay, but no one actually called him by it anymore, so he counted it as a success.

“Mer,” said Jeannie, the third night after the Non-Functioning-Nuclear-Bomb-and-Visit-from-the-CIA Incident that she’d snuck into his room after dark. She was the only person who was still allowed to call him that, and the only one who’d ever seen the now-legible name on his wrist. “When you find your John, are you going to let him call you ‘Meredith’?”

Rodney doubted he’d be lucky enough to ever meet him, but she was still young enough to believe in the true-love fairy tales, so he just nodded and said, “Maybe.”

*

John’s mother died the summer before he started college. It had been an aneurism, sudden but painless, and he was grateful for that, at least. At the funeral home, they had a private viewing, family only, and John stood, just looking at her. His father left after only a few silent moments— business, of course, much more important— and Dave followed, but John stayed.

Carefully, he took his mother’s hand, colder than it should have been, and tilted it to read the name on her wrist. It wasn’t his father’s.

John had always known that he’d been born about seven and a half months after his parents’ wedding, but they had always explained that he’d just been born early. Too eager to see the world, his mother had said, glancing back at his father each time, and he’d believed it. He didn’t believe it anymore.

He set his mother’s hand gently back down, and slid his fingers under the black wristband he’d taken to wearing, tracing the letters he knew well. Meredith, whoever she was, wherever she was, deserved better than him.

*

Rodney’s parents divorced the same week his college acceptance letters started to arrive. There wasn’t a single rejection among them, and he didn’t bother to hide his smug grin. Not there was anyone to see it, anyway. His parents were at their lawyer’s office, again, for once arguing in a place where it might actually do some good, and Jeannie had signed up for as many after-school activities as she could. Rodney didn’t blame her one bit— he’d have done the same if he hadn’t metaphorically burned every social bridge his freshman year.

He spread the college letters out on his bed, then dumped all the Canadian ones in the trash bin. They were all good schools, of course, but no way was he staying close enough to get dragged back into his parents’ mess. The United States it was, then. But how far was far enough. His choices were all in the northern half of the country, since he’d stubbornly refused to apply anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, but one of them would have to do.

Rodney took a deep breath and studied the envelopes. After a moment, he realized he had been absently rubbing his left wrist. He wore a brace on it most of the time, partly because he did a lot of typing and it helped, and partly to hide the clearly-visible name on his wrist. Having a soul-mate of the same gender wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare enough to be different, and Rodney was different enough already.

He looked over the acceptance letters again. What were the odds he’d find John, his John, at any of these schools? That he’d _ever_ find him?

Rodney chose a letter, and started typing a reply.

*

John never dated a girl for more than a week, and only if her name started with a letter from the beginning or end of the alphabet. He made it clear that he wasn’t looking for his soul-mate, or even a serious fling, but the rumors flying around campus seemed to have a life of their own.

Most of the girls were sure he’d lost his soul-mate in some kind of tragic accident, and wanted to ‘comfort’ him. Worse were the ones who seemed to be convinced he was just in denial, and surely _their_ name must be the one on his wrist.

His only slip had been Nancy, who was tough and beautiful, who wanted a career and wasn’t hung up on the fairy tale of finding her ‘one true love’. They were married two weeks before he left on his first mission with the Air Force, and the only reason their marriage lasted as long as it did was because he was overseas for most of it.

“You’re still waiting for her,” said Nancy, at their last meeting with the divorce lawyers. “And you always were. But I don’t blame you for this, John. So, let’s just… each give ourselves a second chance, okay?”

When she had left, John pulled off his wristband and traced the familiar letters slowly. 

A week later, the Air Force stationed him to Afghanistan and John left without a word to anyone.

*

Rodney knew he wasn’t any good with people. In general, they were too stupid to be worth his time, and when he _did_ make the effort, they seemed to operate under a set of rules and subtle unspoken clues that even his not-inconsiderable genius couldn’t accurately calculate. So, the logical solution was to find his soul-mate. Surely, whatever power— he refused to say ‘magic’ even if he didn’t quite understand it— that could put a name on his wrist before he was born would make sure that person would be able to tolerate him for long periods of time, right? Like forever?

It was just Rodney’s luck that his soul-mate had the single most common name in North America. And since it was generally felt that soul-names were private, most un-bonded people tended to keep them covered. It wasn’t as if he could call up every John listed in the phone book and ask if their left wrist said ‘Rodney’.

But carefully chosen dates didn’t seem to do him any good, either. No matter how much Rodney tried to treat it like any other experiment, he couldn’t help getting attached, just a little, to the John who was studying chemistry and loved _Doctor Who_ , or the one who designed acoustic equipment despite his complete inability to carry a tune, or the one working on a PhD in mechanical engineering whose parents had been convinced she was going to be a boy. 

Which left him that much less prepared to hear, “It’s been fun, Rodney…” or “It’s not you, it’s me…” or “You didn’t really think this would last, did you?”

Then Jeannie got married, to an English Major whose name was on her wrist, just like her name was on his. She looked beautiful and radian and happy when she took his arm and whispered, “Mer, I wanted you to be the first to know. Kaleb and I are going to have a baby!

She was pulled away by one of her bridesmaids, and Rodney absently fiddled with the Velcro straps of his wrist brace, running his fingers over the familiar name.

A week later, the SGC sent him to Siberia, and Rodney didn’t look back.

*

John flipped a coin and decided to go to Atlantis. After that, he didn’t have much time to spare for thinking about the soul-mate he had almost certainly left behind forever. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d killed his commanding officer, woken the Wraith and found himself in charge of an entire city of Marines and civilians.

But all of that was easier to deal with once he had his team. Teyla, who was wise and serene and could kick his ass without even trying; Ford, more eager than a puppy but a good and dependable soldier; and Rodney, all bluster and arrogance trying to hide his inner bravery. John had always gotten along with the guys in his units, but Rodney was the first person in a long, long time who was actually his _friend_. They’d hit it off from the moment Rodney had appeared in his office doorway with a turtle-shaped something and said, “Major! Want to help me test this?” and John couldn’t imagine Pegasus without him.

And, sometimes, after a hard mission or very late at night, he wondered what Meredith was doing, back on Earth, and just once, how much different his life might be if _Rodney_ had been his soul-mate.

*

After ten thousand years, Rodney was the one who had made Atlantis come back to life. He was so busy rushing around, trying not to _die_ that it was more than a week before he realized that Major Sheppard— the crazy-haired flyboy lucky enough to have made the Antarctic Control Chair work— was named John.

For a brief, very brief, moment he considered that maybe this John was his John, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. John was his friend, the first he’d had in a long, long time, the only one who actually came to find Rodney when he’d been working too long, instead of getting annoyed at him. And John expanded Rodney’s social circle— first Teyla, the older sister he never knew he’d wanted, and Ford, who was beyond aggravating but whose disappearance hurt worse than anything had in years, then Ronon, who was surprisingly fun to be around, despite the blood-red name of a lost soul-mate on his wrist— but also Elizabeth and Carson and Radek, and a dozen others whose names and lives he knew.

For once, his life was not just productive and fulfilling, but actually _happy_ , near-death experienced notwithstanding. But once in a while, when he couldn’t help it, Rodney still wondered if maybe, just maybe, John really was his soul-mate. 

*

Just because John knew he would never find his soul-mate didn’t mean he wasn’t happy when other people did.

They were still cleaning up the mess from that giant storm— and the Genii invasion— and everyone was worn a little thin. John set the minimum number of patrols, timed to give his people as much sleep as he could, then started working on the civilians.

Most of the ‘soft science’ departments (as Rodney called them) were already ahead of him. They’d battened down whatever they could and gone off to bed, and he was planning to save the hard-sells, Rodney’s group of die-hard scientists, for last. So, John headed up toward the Control Room, where they were just shutting down for the night.

He passed Chuck, finishing up with the Gate shield, with a pat to the shoulder and a nod, then knocked on the doorframe to Elizabeth’s office. She looked up at him, startled at first, then oddly guilty and embarrassed, and John frowned.

“Elizabeth?”

She smiled, sheepishly, but didn’t straighten up from where she was half-bent over her desk. “Hello, John.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Well, mostly yes— I _am_ fine,” she added quickly, when he came to stand beside her. “I think I’m stuck.”

John blinked. “Stuck?”

“Something came loose under here. In the power system, I think. But everyone is so busy, I thought, I can fix this myself…”

“Not so much?” John suggested. She nodded, with another smile, and he hit his radio. “Sheppard to McKay.”

“ _I’m very busy, go away._ ”

“We have a slight… issue, in Elizabeth’s office. Can you spare anyone?”

 _No._ ” There was a pause. “ _You can have Zelenka. He’s being annoying._ ”

“Okay. Thanks—” John grinned at Elizabeth. “He hung up on me.”

A few minutes later, a disgruntled-looking Radek came in, carrying a heavy toolbox, muttering in Czech under his breath, what John presumed were insults to the entire McKay family tree.

“Yes?” he asked, briskly. “What is problem?”

“I’m stuck,” Elizabeth admitted.

He frowned. “Stuck?”

“Under the desk. I was trying to fix... whatever it is. I was trying to save you all some time, but it seems like I’ve only made more of it. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, do not be sorry,” he said, ducking to look at where her hand was caught. Radek hummed to himself for a moment, then pulled a flashlight from his kit and shone it into the power unit. “Ah. Yes, I see what is trouble. Elizabeth… may I ask indelicate question?”

“Of course,” she said— a little quickly, John thought, and like she’d forgotten he was even in the room.

The tips of Radek’s ears went pink. “You have caught your bracelet on loose component inside housing,” he said, and they knew he must be exhausted, because he tended to drop more articles from his English the more tired he got. “Getting hand out, very easy. Getting bracelet out, also easy. Both together? Will take much, much longer.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, then nodded. “Yes, go ahead, Radek.”

The bracelet that Elizabeth wore to cover her soul-name was mostly gold, a series of swirls that wrapped around a band of silk the same deep red as her command uniform. Radek looked at it for a few more moments, then almost on automatic-pilot, unwrapped the brace he wore over his own left wrist.

From the doorway, John could clearly see the letters ‘E-L-I’ as he reached in to get to work— and from Elizabeth’s sharp intake of breath, she’d seen a few more.

It took Radek only a few seconds to unclasp it, and Elizabeth pulled her arm free. A few seconds more, he had the bracelet free, too, and he held it out to her, carefully looking away.

For a long moment, Elizabeth didn’t move, then she held out her hand, palm up. On the smooth skin of her arm, was Radek’s name in clear letters. After a moment of silence, Radek looked down, then blinked.

“Dr. Weir?” he breathed.

She smiled. “I think maybe you’d better call me ‘Elizabeth’, don’t you?” she asked, tracing a finger over her own name on his wrist.

“Well,” said John, and they both started. “Mazel tov, both of you. But maybe you want to move this party somewhere more private, so we can get some sleep?”

Their wedding had been a great celebration, and the extra work had been well-worth the relaxed, happy mood Elizabeth had been in ever since. But, John thought, in a déjà vu moment a few months later, once again dragging a sleep-deprived Rodney back to his quarters, an even more unexpected bond had happened shortly afterward.

During a negotiation with the new Genii factions, their leader Radim Ladon had discovered that the mark on his wrist was not, as his people had always believed, an unreadable birth defect, but in fact was written in Japanese— his marriage to Miko Kusanagi had assured them an alliance that let them all sleep a little easier.

*

Rodney woke up in Lieutenant Cadman’s quarters wearing nothing but his wrist brace, with every muscle screaming at him, and immediately started thinking _very loudly_ every swear word in every language he’d ever learned, before overriding Cadman’s protests to launch into a diatribe against ‘Jarhead torture regiments’ disguised as exercise.

She snorted, mentally. _You could be in better shape, Rodney_ , she said, completely un-phased.

Rodney huffed, wrapped himself in her sheets, and started looking for where she’d left his clothes when she’d gone and hijacked his body. “Wait,” he said, looking up to spot the diplomas on her wall. “Is your first name ‘Laura’? L-A-U-R-A?”

 _Yes_ , Cadman answered, warily. His hand moved automatically to his left wrist— or maybe they both moved it. _What do you know, McKay?_

“I know everything,” he said sharply, pulling on his pants.

_Funny. Seriously, who is it? Is it someone on Atlantis? Is it Carson? Tell me…_

The human brain was not built to hold two consciousnesses, which ironically made trying to get Cadman’s out of his head much more difficult. Especially when she insisted on complicating his life by asking Katie Brown out on a date for him. Katie was a nice girl, if a bit quiet and holding the belief that the study of plants was a real science, but she was one of those who believed in true love and happily ever after, and Rodney was most assuredly not her Prince Charming.

 _You could have tried a little harder with her_ , Cadman complained, when they left Katie’s quarters.

“If I get you back to your own body, will you never speak to me again?” Rodney growled.

By the time he— well, all right, with Radek’s help— found the solution, it was almost too late. “I just…” Rodney said, just before they were ready to try it. “You’re not that bad, Cadman.”

 _I didn’t look at your soul-name, Rodney_ , she said, her mental voice soft.

He took a deep breath. “It’s Carson,” he said, so no one else could hear, and didn’t even complain when she took control one more time to plant a kiss on the very surprised doctor.

A few minutes later, after a wave of almost-unbearable pain, Rodney regained consciousness to find John kneeling beside him, checking his pulse, and a uniformed Cadman scrabbling to pull off her Marine-issue wrist brace, revealing Carson’s name in neat letters.

John offered him a hand up. “Playing matchmaker, McKay?” he asked, smiling.

“No,” Rodney lied, and John kept a hold on his arm the entire way back to the infirmary.

*

John tried not to be too obvious that he was really excited to meet Rodney’s sister. He knew she was a few years younger, but he was sure that she would still have some great little-Rodney stories. Maybe even pictures! If she was anything like her brother, of course, they’d spend all of her time in Atlantis shut up in his lab, working on those shield modifications she’d accidentally worked out the solution to, but John was already planning a ‘rescue’ and a tour of the city so he could pester her for answers.

The _Daedalus_ beamed them down, Rodney already grumpy and impatient, and Jeannie looking around the Gate Room in awe. 

“Mrs. Miller,” said Elizabeth, smiling. “Welcome to Atlantis.”

John took a step forward. “John Sheppard,” he said.

“She’s my sister and she’s married,” Rodney hissed. “Kirk.”

Jeannie shot him a look, then smiled back at John. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. Her other wrist was bare, and he could see the name ‘Kaleb’ in strong dark letters. “Mer hasn’t told me anything about you.”

“Hey!” Rodney protested, but John wasn’t listening.

His hand dropped heavily to his side when Jeannie released it. _Mer?_

Rodney was trying to lead his sister off toward his lab, while Elizabeth was suggesting that they let their guest get some sleep, but Jeannie frowned and glanced back at John.

“Wait a minute,” she said, thoughtfully. “Mer, is this _your_ John?”

“I— What?” said John.

“Oh,” said Jeannie, still frowning. “Didn’t you—”

“No, I didn’t,” Rodney snapped. His fingers went unconsciously to his wrist brace, fidgeting with the Velcro, and suddenly John understood.

“Mer…?” he asked, slowly.

Jeannie rolled her eyes. “That’s his name. Meredith.”

John felt his heart stop for a moment, but Rodney paled. “I have to go to the lab,” he blurted. “I have to set up— to see what they’ve broken— I’ll just—”

Rodney paused for a moment, panicked, then bolted from the room. 

“Hey, Rodney, wait!” called John, and hurried after him. He could hear Elizabeth and Jeannie talking behind him, but he ignored them, nearly jogging to catch up to Rodney.

“Hey,” John said again, falling into step beside him.

Rodney scowled. “What?”

“I—” John began, then, then blurted, “Is the name on your wrist really ‘John’?”

Fear and vulnerability flashed on Rodney’s face for a split-second before it was covered by anger and stubbornness. “Yes,” he said, scrabbling with the Velcro to pull his brace off. “Fine, yes. And I didn’t tell you because it’s completely irrelevant. You’re not my soul-mate, Sheppard, just like the other twenty-nine other Johns who… who dumped me, and I really just wanted to skip that part this time.”

The skin of Rodney’s wrist was paler than the rest of his arm, clear tan lines showing where his brace had been and there, just below his pulse point, were the clear dark letters of John’s own name. Unthinking, he reached out, fingers of one hand curling around Rodney’s and the other, brushing finger-light over the mark.

“Just let it go, Sheppard,” said Rodney, almost pleading. “We can forget all about this, and it doesn’t have to change anything—”

“No,” said John, sharply.

Rodney ‘s face fell and he tried to pull away. “Oh. Well, I guess I can—”

“No, Rodney,” John repeated, tightening his grip. “I meant, I won’t forget. I just didn’t know—”

“Didn’t know what?”

“I didn’t know that she was you,” said John. Rodney frowned, and John squeezed his hand briefly before sliding away to pull off his wristband.

Rodney froze, eyes fixed on the dark letters.

“I thought Meredith was a woman,” said John, softly. “I thought I’d left her on Earth, that I’d never meet her. But that was okay, because I was here and I had you.”

He could almost see Rodney’s genius brain working that through at lightning speed, and he frowned again. “But I _am_ her.”

“Yeah,” said John, with a laugh.

“Seriously, Sheppard,” Rodney snapped, then he grinned, a little goofily. “John.”

That was all it took for John to close the space between them and pull Rodney in for a kiss. They fit perfectly, just like in all of those ridiculous romantic movies John had always hated, but this was so much better because it was _real_.

“Rodney,” he breathed, when they finally broke for air. “Can I call you ‘Meredith’?”

Rodney blinked at him, then snorted. “Only in private.”

John grinned. That was okay— he planned on being in private with Rodney as often as possible.

THE END


End file.
